


Grey

by Afflitto



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Office Kink, PWP, Romano tops, Shameless Smut, Suit Kink, omfg please don't judge me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1558967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Afflitto/pseuds/Afflitto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I love it when you talk dirty,” Gilbert managed.</p><p>Lovino's fingers wrapped around the Prussian's collar.  He pulled him forward just a fraction of an inch.  “And I love it when you shut the hell up and kiss me already.”</p><p>--</p><p>Lovino takes Gilbert against a desk while wearing a suit.  Prumano PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grey

**Author's Note:**

> ha h a,,,once upon a time I promised rniq (@tumblr) a prumano suit fic and 1 year later I actually finished.
> 
> oh god please do not judge me on my inability to write smut
> 
> idk about the title. didn't know what to call it.
> 
> //hides

To Gilbert, there were two types of grey.

The dreary grey that comes from clouds bearing down on the horizon, mumbling threats of punishment.

And the grey weave of a well-cut suit.  Armani, of course, and fitted perfectly around the lithe body of his Italian lover, who was finishing the last of his paperwork for the day.

Gilbert Beilschmidt found himself at the mercy of both.

He parked his car outside just as the first few heavy drops struck at the pavement.  The wind picked up and the albino fled toward the building, his arms flailing and chest heaving as he shoved through the door and tumbled into the lobby.  The receptionist didn’t look up.

“Sunshine, my ass,” Gilbert scoffed on his way to the elevator, glancing back toward the window with a small shudder.

He used the mirrored walls to check his appearance then ran a hand through his hair to undo the damage.  Lovino would probably attack his hair with a comb later anyway.  They had reservations to a fancy-ass restaurant in a little less than an hour.  He hoped his button up shirt sans tie would suffice.  It would have to.

When the doors finally slid open, Gilbert darted down the hallway.  The building was mostly deserted.   Lovino had just stayed late to finish the last of a report he’d been writing, and he’d commandeered the biggest meeting room—a wood paneled chamber dominated by a huge table and a slew of chairs surrounding it—so that he’d have room to spread out. 

“Hey,” Gilbert murmured as he pushed the heavy, double doors apart.  He noticed Lovino typing away at his laptop.  Papers scattered across the table and onto the floor indicated prior frustration, but now he seemed somewhat relaxed, distracted by the howl of wind and the rain slashing haphazardly against the window panes.  He didn’t look up until Gilbert was a few feet away.

“Huh?  What time is it?”  Even rubbing at his eyes could not wipe dull fatigue away, though he did close his laptop.

“Half past.”

Lovino scowled at the papers strewn at the floor and kicked at them.  He shoved his computer into his bag, stood, and worked to smooth the creases in his suit.  “Oh fuck.  It’s raining.”

Gilbert shrugged.  When he thought Lovino was distracted, he craned his neck to check out his ass.  The suit, as expected, was perfectly tailored to his shape.  The Prussian swallowed when the other turned and met his eyes.

Another scowl.  “Stop looking at my ass, bastard.  Be useful and clean my shit up or make it stop raining or something.  We have shit to do.”

Though Gilbert did stoop down to collect the papers, he paused and looked up at the restless Italian, who had begun pacing, silhouette crisp against the frenzy of rain on the window.  “If I could make it stop raining, I would,” the Prussian finally said.  He stood, leaving the papers there, instead catching Lovino’s wrist to still him.  “But our reservations are for a balcony table.  What good is rushing going to do anyway if we’re going to be rained on while we eat?”

Lovino’s mouth opened.  He closed it and sighed.  “Shit.”

Gilbert shrugged and hit him with a fresh grin.  “I can call and reschedule for tomorrow, you know.  We’ll see if the weatherman wants to try to fuck up the forecast again.”  Laughing, he made as if to pound his fist into his other hand, an idle threat that earned a soft snort from his lover.

“Fine, whatever,” Lovino said, glancing back out the window.  The sky was now a harsh black, swallowing even the lightning strikes.  A shiver ran up his spine.

Gilbert patted the edge the table where he’d propped himself up.  “I don’t really want to take my chances getting back to the car, so looks like we’re stuck in here.”  He scooched to allow Lovino a bit of room then wrapped an arm around his shoulder, sharing his warmth.  “It isn’t so bad, anyway.”

“Says you,” Lovino scoffed, though he leaned his head against the Prussian’s chest with a small sigh.  Time passed hand in hand with a barrier of silence created by the deafening downpour.  Lovino sighed again.

There are times when Lovino is struck by a certain mood which comes from nowhere in particular.  Sometimes it leads to him submerging Gilbert’s favourite game controller in a pitcher of jello.  Or dressing Gilbird in doll clothes, so that the bird waddles around in a too-tight suit and a little hat.  Other times Gilbert blinks and realizes that Lovino’s lips are open against his neck and he’s groaning hot threats and moist breath against tingling skin. 

And his coat is mysteriously pooled around his waist on the table, half his shirt already unbuttoned, collar awry.

“Lovin—“

He was silenced with the heavy presence of tongue lapping up his protests.  And hands—oh god those hands—pressing through the wet patches of his shirt to find the heat radiating beneath, palms rough against nipples and finger tips exploring like a typist hammering out desperate pleas, demanding that each stroke knit together into something he can control, this time not words but shivering gasps and small moans.

Gilbert couldn’t even manage a scoff, not that he had any face left to save.

“Oh god, oh _god_ ,” he finally muttered.

“Sure, go ahead and call me that,” the words were hot needles pressed into his collarbone.

 Or was that just his teeth; Gilbert’s head was lulled back, eyes rolled to the ceiling with a fresh shudder that seized him then ripped down his body toward his cock.

“Feisty today—“ Gilbert gasped.  “What’s gotten in to you?” 

“Work was hell,” Lovino muttered into his mouth.  He’d moved back to his lips, now that he was straddling Gil’s lap, his own knees half on the table and Gilbert leaning back on his arms, desperate not to slip off the polished mahogany.  Oh how Lovino rutted those hips, so much that the little bursts of pleasure to an already excited cock overrode any discomfort of a table just a little bit too high off the ground and the sharp reminder of its edge at his knees.  “And the rain is hell.”  His teeth grazed Gil’s cheek.

“Then give _me_ hell,” Gilbert said.  “But keep the suit on.”  His hands found the silky weave of cotton enticing when he gripped tight around the firm shape of Lovino’s ass.  Motion and form melded into one til Gilbert’s fingers couldn’t tell the difference between a smoothly undulating body and the texture of the suit around hips and over strong thighs—or the faint scent of cologne barely masking the musk of sweat or the dank scent of rainwater still clinging to Gil’s clothes and--

All at once Lovino stopped.

Gilbert whined.

“Okay.  But if you fuck this suit up, you’re personally taking it to the dry cleaners,” Lovino said after a moment of silence. 

Gilbert could only nod.  Too eagerly, eyes feasting on the red satin tie that he longed to grip, to yank Lovino back down to lay savage waste to those open lips.  “S’that all?”  The pouring rain no longer seemed a solid barrier, but a curtain enveloping them in the safety of darkness and sound.  
  
Lovino shook his head.  “And I’m going to fuck you over my boss’s desk.”

Gilbert felt himself grin.  “Looking for a bit of revenge?”  
  
“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

That grin only widened.  “I feel bad for the cleaners.”

“Or I could make _you_ lick it up.  If you really feel that bad,” Lovino said.

“And suddenly I don’t give a shit anymore.”

“That’s what I thought.”  Lovino’s smirk sent shivers up Gilbert’s spine.

 “I love it when you talk dirty,” Gilbert managed.  
  
Lovino's fingers wrapped around the Prussian's collar.  He pulled him forward just a fraction of an inch.  “And I love it when you shut the hell up and kiss me already.”

Gilbert closed the gap.  Somehow they stumbled across the room, bumping chairs and walls before finally crashing through the heavy doors while joined by the lips, Lovino’s fingers still tight in his collar.  Their walk was more of an awkward shamble, with messy panting and little gasps for breaths, Lovino half tripping over Gilbert who could not move fast enough.  Halfway down the hall, they finally toppled, Lovino smacking into Gilbert’s chest.  Lights flickered with a solid gust of wind that seemed to shake the building. 

Lovino buried a laugh in his lover’s neck. “Oh fuck, this isn’t working.”

“You’re just now realizing this?”  Gilbert shifted Lovino so his knee wasn’t pressed so hard into his crotch.  “Dammit, nothing like slamming my elbow into a wall to make me go soft.  Fuck you, Lovino.”  Still, he was chuckling. 

Lovino cocked his head.  “And here I thought you liked a bit of pain here and there.”  He smirked.

“Even the toughest of men has his limits,” Gil said.

“Oh yes, the elbow.  Known to cripple even the bravest warrior.”  Lovino snorted into Gilbert’s chest and pressed three solid kisses against him: one on either corner of his mouth and one square on his lips.   
  
“I propose we walk in an orderly fashion down the hallway to your boss’s room, then,” Gilbert said.  “Before I sustain any more life-threatening injuries.”  He made a show of rubbing at his elbow, but grinned up at Lovino all the same. 

They both glanced the five remaining feet to the door then back at each other.

“What a lameass decision,” Lovino said.

Gilbert nodded.

Their lips slammed back together a moment more, then the two awkwardly climbed to their feet and shuffled in that direction.  The doorknob rattled but did not yield and so Lovino, with Gilbert latched firmly around his waist with his lips at his neck, jammed a paperclip into the lock and jimmied it open.  The two fell through along with the swing of the door onto the carpet near a massive chair.

“Lookit that asshole’s chair.  So fucking ergonomically sensible while I hurt my ass sitting on the poor excuse for a chair they gave me.  I swear, my butt falls asleep after only five fucking minutes!”

“Are you implying that I massage your ass to make up for it?”  He flipped Lovino onto his back and wrapped his arms around him.

“The hell—“  Lovino yelped at the strong fingers that tightened around his asscheeks then started scrunching then groping, pulling and shoving.  His glower lost out to a gasp as Gilbert sharpened his grip.  “A-ahn…”

“Better?” Gilbert asked.  His hands slipped below his waistband and started kneading gently.  
  
Lovino writhed against him.  “You’re like a fucking 5 year old.”

Gilbert only answered with another squeeze and pressed his nose close to his ear, sampling at the skin behind his lobe with a few nibbling kisses.  “Maybe.  Maybe not.”  He moved to sucking at the corner of his jaw.  “Weren’t you supposed to go all boss-man on me and take charge on the desk?  What exactly am I being punished for anyway~?”

“For being an asshole.”

Gilbert ran his tongue back up toward his ear and chuckled at Lovino’s little shiver.  “Not a good enough reason.  I can’t feel remorse for my normal state of being.”

“You weren’t gonna feel remorse anyway,” Lovino hissed.

“Yeah, but I was gonna pretend.”

That earned a little laugh, at least, and Lovino shoved him upwards and unhooked Gilbert’s fingers from his rear.  “Okay.  If I’m the boss, then I want you on your feet right now.”  He stood and waited for Gilbert to stand as well, pleased when the other silently obeyed.  “I’ve figured it out.”  He paced back and forth then walked behind the desk, plopping down in the lush chair, feet propped up on the desk as he regarded Gilbert coolly.  Lightning slashed across the sky behind the huge window overlooking the town.  The sky was still dark.  “You’re the intern—“

“Oooh, kinky—“

“Shutup, dammit.  Fine.  You’re the temp—“

“Even kinkier!”

“Dammit, Gilbert.”  Lovino scowl darkened.  He clicked on the little table lamp.  It illuminated the grave expression on his face.  “You’re the secretary then.  And I’m punishing you because you talk back too much.”

Gilbert shrugged.  “Sounds accurate enough.  Okay.  Then punish me.  And get really _really_ into character.  You’re the boss.”

Lovino swung his feet from the desk and wheeled the chair around.  He pointed to the space between where he parted his legs.  “On your knees.”

“But you just had me stand u—“

Blushing wildly, Lovino jabbed harder at the air.  “I-I said on your damn knees.  And call me sir, dammit!”

Gilbert felt a tiny thrill rip through him and obeyed.  “Yes _sir_.” 

A harsh grip jerked at his hair.  He found his nose at Lovino’s crotch, while the other worked to unzip his pants.  “Don’t be a sarcastic asshole either.  Or you’re fired.”

“From blowing you?”

Lovino tugged harder.  “No, from your job, dumbass.  Shut up already.”

A little too eagerly, Gilbert clawed through to reveal Lovino’s cock, which he took in his mouth somewhat gingerly until Lovino yanked urgency into him.

“Get on with it.”

Gil went about licking up and down the length, focusing first on the tip then down the head and along the vein.  He grinned at the creak of the chair as Lovino leaned back, his legs widening as he groaned.  After sucking on his balls and toward Lovino’s inner thigh, Gilbert pounced, taking the length in a gaping mouth amidst a strangled gasp above him.  He ran his tongue along it as he sucked, and bobbed his head up and down, until Lovino’s hips grew spastic with thrusts.  Several times he nearly gagged and had to pause to regain control, but Lovino only pulled him closer, until his mouth was completely overwhelmed and drool ran down his chin.

He gagged harder.

Lovino’s brow furrowed, but he pushed him back a little, groaning deeply to readjust to the cool air as it hit him.  “H-heh.  Fuck.”  He shifted a little bit.  He felt delicious power in the way that Gilbert stared up at him, still gaping, poised between his knees, the tip of his cock inches from his lips.  He couldn’t help himself:  “Better use for your mouth, huh?”  He allowed Gilbert to catch his breath.

There was a question in his eyes as he slowly eased his fingers into a hold on Gilbert’s hair.  A silent “continue?”

Gilbert nodded just slightly, setting his lips into a harsh line.  “The only use for my mouth…sir.”  He didn’t dare wipe at his mouth.  The saliva dripped onto the floor.

Satisfied, Lovino nodded.  “Then finish removing your damn pants and we’ll talk about that promotion.”  His cheeks were tinged red, but Gilbert’s compliance only encouraged him.  He leaned forward to lift Gil’s chin with a finger, capturing his gaze as he fumbled to obey. 

“Stand,” Lovino finally ordered.

Gilbert was able to climb to his feet and kick his pants and briefs off. 

Lovino began to dig through the desk, but found nothing of use.  Frustrated, he frowned.  “I don’t have lube…” he finally admitted, staring sheepishly at Gilbert.

A little too eagerly, Gilbert dropped to the floor and rummaged through his pants until he produced a little tube of his own.  “I was fully prepared for tonight, other than forgetting to tell the rain to fuck off...”  He tossed it over.

It fumbled from hand to hand as Lovino struggled to catch it.  He managed to pop the lid.  “On my lap,” he said, just as smoothly as before.  If the minor setback had flustered him, he made sure to hide it.

Gilbert climbed up on to him to straddle his hips, legs hanging awkwardly on either side.  “Like this?”

“You follow directions so well,” Lovino said.  “This is going on your performance review.”

Gilbert bit back a choked laugh.  “Oh my fucking god—“

“Shut up and stay in character,” Lovino muttered.

“I can’t when you keep saying ridiculous shit like _that_ , how is that even _intimidating—“_

Lovino pinched his ass.  Hard.  He slicked up his fingers and started probing into his opening.  The first few fingers entered all at once.  Gilbert hissed, body tensing up so that his shoulders rose and his face buried itself into Lovino’s shoulder.  He cried out as Lovino only continued to work, not bothering to take it slow.

“Better,” Lovino muttered in his ear.

Gilbert scowled at him but started to move his hips, effectively finger-fucking himself, breath coming out in ragged, heated gasps.  He panted through a few heavy kisses, which Lovino allowed him.

“Talk dirty to me,” Gilbert whined.  He craved every kind of torture imaginable from Lovino’s tongue.

Lovino snagged Gilbert’s bottom lip between his teeth then released it.  “Tell me what you deserve.”

“Punishment,” Gilbert said.  He groaned as Lovino removed his hand but tried rutting his erection against his lover’s.

“Beg for it,” Lovino ordered.  He gripped Gilbert’s ass and added force to his thrusts, squeezing tightly.

Gilbert let his head fall back and moaned.  “Please.  Please punish me.  Fuck me.  _Fuck me_.  O-over the desk, just get _inside_ me, goddammit.”

“Lean over the desk then,” Lovino said, pointing.  “And I’ll fuck you so hard you scream my praises.”

Eagerly, Gilbert did as he was told.  He could almost feel Lovino’s eyes studying his vulnerable ass.  The edge of the desk was sharp against his stomach.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the other edge.  Hard.  Lovino had positioned himself against Gilbert.

Then he was in.

Gilbert groaned long and low, toes curling, the breath forced from his lungs.  “Fucking finally,” he managed.

Taking that as a green light, Lovino started to move.  He began with shallow thrusts, which rattled the desk just enough to knock over a cup of pens, then threw his head back and moved harder.  Gilbert bit back a strangled sob, the edge now _digging_ into his skin with each impact.  He’d have bruises there if Lovino didn’t manage to cut him in _half_ first _—_

His back arched.  Lovino had started aiming, searching as he pounded.  He found it.  Gilbert cried out past teeth he’d been gritting.  He tried to bend his legs, fingers clawing at the desk.  Drawers started falling open.  The desk screeched and started rocking.

This encouraged Lovino.  He rutted harder and with wild abandon, his own fingers digging into Gilbert’s stomach, feeling the sweat collect and the flex of muscle with each gasp.  He felt in control.  Powerful. 

The lightning continued to streak across the sky.  The window was a frenzy of pelting drops.  Lovino thrusts grew erratic.  Gilbert’s cries grew hoarse.

Then, pleasure surging through him, Lovino felt himself cum and went limp across Gilbert’s backside, too tired to free himself, his suit pressed hard against Gil’s sweaty, bare muscles.

Gilbert choked through a few breaths.  “O-oi…boss…”

His cock was still painfully hard, just barely on the edge.

Lovino took mercy and feebly stroked and fondled it until it dribbled and spurted.  Then, he stumbled over to the window, zipping his pants and straightening up his suit.  A few buttons had become undone.  These he fastened.

Gilbert, spent and bruised but so very sated, joined him, enjoying his clean-cut outline every time the lightning lit the room. 

They sat together in front of that window, too tired to talk, Lovino clothed and Gilbert naked.  Gil leaned against his lover with a long sigh.  With a rare smile on his lips, Lovino idly stroked his arm, cheeked against the top of his head.  All of the anxiety and frustration that had furrowed his brow earlier had dissipated into a strange sense of calm despite the storm outside.

 


End file.
